


The Man by the Window

by K_King



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Dealing, Drug Withdrawal, Homophobic Language, M/M, Medical Torture, Past Rape/Non-con, Pedophilia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Suspense, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 09:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2464037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_King/pseuds/K_King
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who was this man, who tormented him so mercilessly? What did he want? Hot blood began rapidly pulsing throughout his veins as his breathing was labored for the first time in his boring life. He was truly scared. And the horrible part? He liked it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to FanFiction.Net under my pen name inuyasha1sasuke, I reposted this story. Unfortunately it isn't completed yet--only up to the third chapter. I'm currently working on the fourth and almost finished.
> 
> On another note, please forgive me if I'm doing things incorrectly seeing that this is my first time here and posting anything. I kind of got carried away with the additional tags, haha...
> 
> But please, comment and tell me what you think of this first chapter!

Cold; the room was cold. And dark. Typical. He shivered on the small, twin-sized bed in the corner. Moonlight leaked through the pristine curtains and spilled about a pale face that appeared to be asleep.

But he wasn't.

No. He never slept; couldn't. Insomnia. Obsidian eyes opened slowly, hypnotically, and revealed an eternity of pain and confusion.

In his peripheral vision, a black shadow dashed by the window in the blink of an eye. It was his eyes. They liked to play tricks on him. They always did.

An icy hand slowly came up to brush a stray lock away from a lifeless face as his eyes closed once more. He breathed in and out, in and out...slowly. He found that he needed to calm himself; he sensed something off in the distance, something ominous which had caused his heart beat to spike. Normally being devoid of all emotions, he wasn't used to feeling this way, feeling such a _rush_ in his being; numbness. Yes, that it what he normally felt.

Spiraling down, further and further into himself as he lay there, mind falling into oblivion, he heard a loud clatter. Whether it was inside or outside, he couldn't tell.

The beating of his own heart practically deafened him as his breathing became erratic. Who was it? _What_ was it? What did it want with him? Where _is_ it? How did it know about him—?

Another clatter, then a loud bang—

Trembling hands clutched the satin bed sheets tightly, because after all, this wasn't the first time. No, it was _far_ from the first time.

His senses became hyper-aware as he slowly picked himself up off the bedding and headed towards the dark window to quickly close his curtains. Though, before he even had a chance to place his fingers on the soft material, a pair of smoldering eyes glinting in the moonlight had met his own as his breath hitched in his throat.

Before he knew it, a pale face was just inches away from his own frightened self, only separated by the window's thin glass. Gasping, he fell backwards and quickly caught himself on the nearby bed post, eyes wide as he took in the sight currently at his window.

Scalding breath fogged the glass with each breath the man took from the close proximity as a wide, manic smile slid over his features. Midnight black eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as his deranged face was pressed tightly to the window as gentle, hysterical giggling was heard.

A small hand with nimble, bony fingers accompanied his face as they caressed the glass, _scratching_ with a high-pitched scream as each untrimmed fingernail slid across the fogged surface.

The laughing ceased as harsh breathing was heard, then...

_"If you're happy a-and you know it..."_

"F-Fuck..."

_"...clap your h-hands..."_

"H-He's fuckin' c- _crazy_ —!" 

He gave a brave glance up at the insane man once more before shakily walking over and closing his curtains, making sure his windows were locked. He sat down on his bed and grasped the sheets tightly as he tried to calm himself, slowly bringing his trembling knees up to his chest.

_"If you're happy and you know it..."_

"S-Stop...!" He shouted the best he could, though it came out as a mere squeak. This man had rendered him useless. 

_"...clap your HANDS...!"_

He still heard that eerie, incessant singing which had only gotten louder and louder by the second.

“Fuck _YOU_."

He was desperate, desperate for this to _stop_ , for the beating of his heart was starting to scare him. He had never felt this way; never felt the pulsing of hot blood through his veins with each beat of his erratic heart, never felt the shaking of his own legs beneath him before this man came into his life. He felt _alive_ —more alive than he had ever felt in years.

And it stopped.

The singing stopped.

The screeching stopped.

His _heart_ stopped.

He quickly raised himself and walked to the windows, throwing the curtains aside in a frenzy.

He was gone.

A feeling of relief washed over him, and something else that he couldn't quite pin-point at the moment.

He dropped to the floor in confusion. He was _scared_. He could still feel his heart drumming quickly in his chest as he tried to calm himself down. He leaned his back against the bedpost, looking desperately up at the white-washed ceiling...

_White walls, whiter than the purest snow surrounded him, and the nurses... Euphoria. That is what he sensed here. Everyone was fake, putting on a show for the patients—senseless mutterings of reassurance echoing throughout the halls. It was almost deafening, though it never truly drowned out the pleading voices of the insane, reaching out—out to some being that could truly be of help._

_There was no one. They were trapped._

_Crying, screaming, scratching filled his ears. An asylum. These people were mentally insane. A blur of faces passed his vision, though he paid no mind. They weren't significant. No, definitely not._

_A glint of metal gleamed in his peripherals as he glanced over. There was a patient strapped down—a familiar one, though he hadn't a clue why—on a gurney. An ice pick and a small mallet had been placed in a tray among one of the faceless doctors._

_A lobotomy._

_Were they still being performed in such a cruel manner?_

_His stomach churned uncomfortably as he saw one of the faceless, white-clad doctors grab the ice pick off of the tray beside him as if he had performed this task a thousand times over. With his left hand, he raised the patient's right upper eyelid, the patient squirming, not able to comprehend what was about to transpire. Ignorance truly was bliss._

_The needle-like object was raised and inserted two centimeters inside the eye socket, resting at the top of the eyeball and below the eyelid being held in place gently at an upward angle. Pain would be inevitable soon. There was no morphine, no numbing substance or sedative to be had. Such practices had to be illegal. No individual should endure that much pain._

_He grasped the small mallet in his right hand, holding the ice pick perfectly in place. This procedure had a fifty-fifty chance of success with many serious risks, the main one being a complete personality change. The whole process included inserting the ice pick through the eye socket to reach the frontal lobe of the brain whilst moving the ice pick in a slight back-and-forth motion, damaging and almost completely disconnecting the whole frontal lobe from the rest of the brain. The frontal lobe wasn't correct to begin with, causing the patient to become mentally unstable. Dealing physical damage to the lobe would hopefully allow it to heal correctly—that being the desired result—allowing the patient to slowly gain back their stable state of mind through time._

_Though, that wasn't always the case._

_Some cases were hopeless._

_The mallet was placed at the bottom tip of the ice pick—the doctor going agonizingly slow. A cold sweat started to form at his temples. He couldn't watch this. He had to get away, away from here, from this crazy place!_

_The doctor slowly reared the mallet back, ready to take the first hit—no, he couldn't watch. His head was frozen in place though, his eyes unable to avert from the scene in front of him. All of a sudden he felt extremely sick to his stomach as he watched the patient writhe and squirm, trying to escape._

_Then, the first hit was taken._

_A scream reverberated throughout the asylum as his knees buckled beneath him. He fell to the floor roughly as he heard the anguished cries of the patient, bound and helpless in front of him._

_Before he knew it, he heard himself gag. His stomach couldn't handle this. He retched several times before emptying his stomach about the pristine white floor in front of him._

_The second hit was taken, and another scream was heard._

_This time, it wasn't the patient._

It felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed onto him as he came out of his reverie. What had just happened? He hadn’t a clue. His thoughts had been strange lately, plagued by him. And almost for a moment, it felt as if the world had stopped. He had forgotten what all his life had been about, forgotten all of his grievances and problems, and once again, they were replaced by him. He had yet to find out who or what this man was, or what he wanted. All he knew was that he was haunted by him. 

And he liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still not used to this site, especially after coming over here from FF.Net, though you guys probably here that from everyone. I'm having a hard time saving my formatting, mainly what I put in italics and it irks me. Bad. I really don't feel like retyping the whole chapter in the "chapter text" section...
> 
> Anyways, here's the second chapter! Leave kudos & comment, guys!

It was two in the evening by the time his eyes had even opened for the first time that day.

He had passed out in the floor the previous night without even realizing it, and felt as if he had a hangover. As far as his exhausted mind could remember, he hadn't been drinking. He would rather rot in Hell than pick up a bottle, but drinking would sure explain the eerie thoughts and dreams that plagued him lately off and on...

" _If you're happy and you know it..._ "

No. No, that couldn't have been a dream. His jaded mind was betraying him. Confused between reality and thoughts and—and _dreams_? He couldn't believe himself.

He couldn't keep dwelling on this. Every corner he turned, _his_ voice would drone on in his head like some sort of mantra which repeated itself over and over until he felt sick.

Admittedly, it had given him something to think about in his less than boring life. In fact, that was _all_ he had been thinking about. It kept him busy from other thoughts, thoughts that depressed him and made his stomach churn uncomfortably until he felt sick.

Things seemed ominous as of late, though strangely, not in a negative way. Any other sane person would have to disagree with his line of thinking, though as he learned over the span of many years, he wasn't very much like too many people. Of course, every outward appearance of his own were _just_ like any other individual's. He had a high-paying occupation and was well-known in society, a normal apartment—albeit he lives alone out of preference—a nice neighborhood, was a naturally attractive person and had every female in the city making their advances toward him, was intelligent...

He absolutely loathed it. Everything was too normal, everyone was too predictable, and it seemed as if change was impossible. He was a mess on the inside and not a single person seemed to notice, not even _cared_ to acknowledge him or his feelings.

Something _new_ needed to happen. Everything was too dull, lifeless, and repetitive, and it was beginning to drive him mad. In his world, everything was bathed in black and gray; so desperate for change... To him, it didn't matter _how_ , things just needed to be different, whether it be bad or good.

Though, that previous night, things had taken a drastic turn. Blood began pulsing rapidly throughout his veins once more, making him feel truly alive. Fear, excitement—whatever it was, it didn't matter because it was _different_. The man by the window that night had thrown a splotch of color onto his gray and black canvas, bleeding through the material and staining it a bright, passionate red. He was beginning to find himself once more, he began to realize as the sun shone brightly through his closed curtains like a light at the end of a tunnel. A ray of _hope_.

Carding a hand through dark, tousled locks in an attempt to straighten them out, he arranged his feet beneath him and stood up as steadily as possible as he felt his blood rush to his head in a dizzying motion. It was then when he realized that sleeping on the floor hadn't been such a great idea as bones popped and muscles ached with the first step forward he took.

Taking a glance at the small digital clock placed on a small mahogany table off to his bedside, he groaned audibly in annoyance. It was so late, yet it had been the first time in a while since he had slept past noon. Normally, his insomnia wouldn't allow him the luxury of sleeping. He decided this time to take sleeping in as a good sign, and quickly dismissed the thought.

As his light-headedness began to fade, he made his way to the small black dresser just in front of his bed. Pulling out his choice of clothes for the day before showering, he chose a crisp white dress shirt to wear underneath that soot-colored jacket that the ladies absolutely adored. He _was_ high in society after all. Impressing those around him had become second nature, although he didn't need to do much. He knew he was conceited, but he also knew that he was fucking gorgeous, possibly the best looking in the city—no, he _knew_ that he was. No one dared to tell him otherwise. They knew better.

Gathering his things for a shower, he went into the bathroom attached to the master bedroom in his condo. He desperately needed one, so that's what he was going to do.

* * *

Only a few hours later, three consecutive knocks reverberated throughout the condominium, interrupting the man currently sipping at a cup of coffee.

_I'm never going to get a fuckin' break, am I?_

All thoughts aside, he rose from his chair and made his way slowly—on purpose—to the door. Eyeing the tiny peep-hole wearily, he looked into it, cringing.

His dealer. Orochimaru.

“Dammit all... Just what I fuckin' need this early in the fuckin' _morning_...” he muttered bitterly, carding a hand through silky raven locks as he walked away, not intending to answer the greedy man on the other side of the door. After all, he never came to him for anything good. No, if he ever came to “visit” him, he always wanted something, something that he was never willing to give on normal occasions.

Yes, he knew him well. Some would say a little _too_ well. Either way, he knew him, and he knew what he wanted. He had yet to pay him for the drugs he so desperately took, and he wasn't planning on it, either. He knew he was treading on dangerous waters here, but it couldn't be helped.

That sick fucker already got his payment from him, no matter if Orochimaru saw it that way or not. He would never give his body willingly, especially to a _man_ —he wasn't some sick faggot—but he was forced. Yes, the great Sasuke Uchiha was held against his will by those cold, spidery hands. He still shivered at the mere thought of it, grimacing at the memory. But that wasn't the first time something like that occurred. His father. He was only _seven_. Just a mere child...

_“Daddy? Daddy, what are you—?”_

_His stuffed dinosaur was ripped from his grip by icy hands in the dark room, moonlight illuminating the man's features who stood beside his bed. His face appeared flushed, and the stench of alcohol was overwhelming his senses. His father seemed dazed._

_His wife had left a few hours ago on a business trip, leaving him and his son alone for two weeks. She knew her husband had a drinking problem, but she trusted him. He had a little boy to be responsible for. There was no way he would pick up a bottle while she was gone._

_How wrong she was. Her mistake cost her beautiful son his innocence._

_“What's wrong, Daddy? Are you lonely without Mommy here? You can sleep with me!” He said excitedly, wiping the sleep away from his eyes, wearing a big grin. His father never paid any attention to him. He was thrilled that he had come to see him in his room! But why wasn't he saying anything?_

A few more knocks sounded, harder and louder by the second, bringing him from his reverie. He could tell the bastard was furious, and he smirked inwardly. Good. As long as he was still pissing people off, then all was right with the world. 

_“Sasuke Uchiha, open this_ fuckin' _door before I beat it off it's hinges!”_

Well, damn.

He could either use the fire escape, or hide... No. _No_. He was many things, but he was _not_ a coward, so hiding was out of the question, or even _running_ for that matter. He wasn't scared of him like some bitch. This was _his_ place, dammit. He would stand his ground.

Even if that meant ignoring the furious man on the other side of the door. He hated unnecessary arguments, after all.

Making sure his door was locked, he headed back to the kitchen to finish his coffee. He was not in the mood for this. A few tablets to bust up and snort seemed to be his only form of relaxation for the moment. That was all he had, until he made another drug run, of course. Pills would have to suffice for now.

_“You dirty son of a bitch! You're here, I know it. Your car's in the parking lot...”_

_Well_ , duh, _jackass_ , Sasuke thought, without a care for the angry man still residing behind his door, obviously desperate. It was rather humorous. A simple two-inch piece of wood was keeping the murderous son of a bitch from getting what he wanted. He thought he was _so_ tough.

_“I_ will _be paid, you know. Whether it be with money, or something else, I always get what I want in the end. Remember that..._ ” That voice dripping with malice continued on behind the door.

“Now, is that a threat?” He muttered, mostly to himself. “It couldn't be, not to _me_ , anyways. People know better...” He smirked into his coffee cup, taking another sip. That smirk didn't last though as horrible memories from before came rushing back.

_The covers were roughly jerked off of the tiny boy who went from happy, to thoroughly confused. Before he even had time to protest, forceful lips were already upon his childish ones in an instant. Eyes grew wide at the sudden contact, and the small boy almost gagged at the intruding tongue worming its way into his mouth._

_“Mnh—!”_

_Thrashing his head from side to side, he tried his best to escape this man who pretended to be his father. This couldn't be his father. His feet were tangled about the sheets that donned his tiny frame, making escape impossible. A heavy body fell atop his own as he felt hot tears streaming, a horrible contrast to the cold hands roaming under his night shirt._

_The man atop him never said a word, only a few grunts and moans as the child felt him grinding his hips harshly into his own. Why was he doing this? Why_ him _?!_

_“S-Stop! Please...!” he sobbed, feeling a growing hardness between his own legs. What was it?_

_The drunken man started undressing on top of him, only proving to scare him further. There was a pause in the man's ministrations to his body, so he used that time to ask him a question he had been wanting to ask since the beginning of all of this._

_“W—...Who are y-you?” He trembled, tears blurring his vision. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. A few moments passed before he received his answer._

_“Your father.”_

He gasped, taking in several gulps of icy air into his lungs, shocking him. Why were these memories plaguing him all of a sudden? The past was the past, and he wasn't going to let his bastard of a father get to him. He was long gone, anyway. 

“S-Shit... That dirty fuckin' faggot. Should've kept his dick where it belonged, the cock sucker.”

He hadn't a clue why he was swearing, but it sure made him feel better. Looking down at his hands, he noticed he was trembling. Fuck. He hadn't even noticed that the incessant knocking at his door had ceased.

He covered his face with his hands, closing his eyes. Despite sleeping in, he was ridiculously tired. Coffee didn't seem to help him, either. Oh, well. He would just crush up a pill later, after he finished his coffee. That would fix his problem, and calm his frazzled nerves.

He hadn't a clue what had gotten into him as of late, but he was rather jumpy. He perked up at the slightest of noises, ridiculously alert. He supposed it was because of...

_"If you're happy and you know it..."_

He closed his eyes even tighter, gritting his teeth. ...Why couldn't he just leave him the fuck alone?! His breath hitched in his throat as a light buzzing filled his ears, growing louder and louder by the second. Was he going crazy? What the hell was wrong with him?! He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate, gripping the sides of the table for leverage. He began to gasp, surprising himself.

Everything was so loud... He felt like passing out.

Opening his eyes for a moment, he realized that the world around him was spinning. The buzzing at his ears was growing unbearably loud. He could feel scorching hot liquid in his eyes, but couldn't quite tell what it was at the moment.

Then suddenly, as if a plug had been pulled, there was an absolute silence.

The buzzing at his ears had stopped. His gasping had stopped. His grip on the table had loosened. Lastly, he opened his eyes and everything became clear once more. He could hear the screeching sounds of horns and city traffic just outside his window. He could feel the rapid beating of his heart within his chest. He could also feel the trickling of scalding tears at his cheeks. When did _that_ happen?

He quickly wiped them away, beginning to calm down. Good. Reclaiming his forgotten coffee in front of him, he brought the cup up to his lips.

“Sasuke—”

It immediately fell from his grip, and crashed onto the floor. He fell backwards off the chair he was sitting in. He was silently glad that he hadn't taken a drink of that coffee, because he would have certainly choked.

The calm person standing in front of him arched an eyebrow in a questioning gesture.

“Um, is everything...okay?” he asked slowly, as to not startle the man currently sitting in the floor in front of him any further than he already had.

“What the _fuck_?!” he shouted, eyes wide and fearful. “How the hell did you get in?!”

It was his work buddy, Kakashi Hatake.

“Your door was unlocked, so I decided to just go ahead and come in. Anyways, why weren't you at work to—”

“W-What do you mean?” His face visibly paled, his voice going soft in confusion. “I locked the door, I made sure of it. Orochimaru, a-and that man...” he trailed off, not yet having gotten up off the ground. Glass shards were sprinkled about the floor along with a brown puddle of now-cooling liquid.

He had never seen this side of Sasuke before. He was absolutely hysterical... Was it the drugs? Was he going through withdrawl?

“Well, you obviously made a mistake. Why's that such a big deal, anyway? You're here to watch over the place. It's not like anyone's going to steal your things or—”

“Fucking _hell_...”

There was a moment of pause between the pair before his friend had finally decided to just come out and ask him the ever-important question.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

Sasuke looked him in the eyes, never once averting his gaze and appearing almost desperate before he answered.

"I don't know."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Only the lights of the city around them remained to cut through the darkness, illuminating the sidewalks and streets as the traffic began to calm considerably compared to the hustle of daytime. The concrete was scarce of any scurrying feet of businessmen and women, trying desperately to bypass those around them in order to get to their jobs.

In other words, the night was peaceful, almost eerily so.

A few stories up, two men were currently enjoying themselves. All windows were closed and the shades were pulled. It wasn't anyone's business what they were doing, even if it _was_ illegal.

"I've got this one, Sasuke," the white-haired man said, taking a peach-colored pill and placing it on the counter for them. He pulled out a cigarette lighter, flipping it around so the bottom touched the pill, and pushed. The pill cracked in two pieces. He continued what he was doing until it was rendered to a mere white powder. Eyeing his work, he nodded in satisfaction. "Alright. It's ready."

"If I snort up a lump, I'm going to murder you, Hatake," the raven informed, getting up from the couch he was lounging on.

"I've been in this game longer than you have. I know what I'm doing," he muttered half-heartedly, swiping the powdered substance into two lines for them with his business card. He pulled out a pen from his coat pocket, handing it to Sasuke, "Here."

Looking at the pen with distaste, Sasuke shook his head and pulled out his wallet, "No. I've got something better." He was tired of hollowing out pens to use. It was time to do this task with _class_.

Watching Kakashi raise an eyebrow in question, he smirked, pulling out a hundred dollar bill. He rolled it up completely, leaving a hollow stick of green. Kakashi immediately saw what he was doing.

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

Sasuke couldn't see the expression his friend was wearing behind that mysterious mask of his, but he could only guess it was an amused smile. "And what does that make you?"

"Broke. I've got no money, so hand me a Benjamin," he demanded, almost playfully.

"You can use mine, as long as you give it back," Sasuke sternly told him, the other's mood not affecting him in the least. Plucking another bill from his wallet between two fingers, he handed it to Kakashi's eager hands.

"But I was planning on keeping it..." he mock pouted, taking it from his moody friend's fingers as soon as if was offered, mimicking Sasuke's actions from before on the bill.

"Fuck you."

He was used to his friend's rudeness. Deciding to ignore that comment, he abruptly changed the subject to a more serious matter.

"So... What were you saying about Orochimaru earlier?"

At the mention of Orochimaru, Sasuke visibly stiffened. The action didn't go unnoticed by Kakashi.

"It doesn't matter. That bastard doesn't deserve our concern."

And with that said, the subject was automatically dropped.

It was strange. Why had Sasuke suddenly developed an aversion to Orochimaru? All he was, was Sasuke's drug dealer, right? He would normally talk some trash about him, and go on with life. But now? Any talk revolving around the man was quickly diminished.

It had started earlier that morning, when his friend was being startled at even the slightest of noises. He hadn't even heard him walk in his house, and he wasn't exactly the stealthiest person on earth—he wasn't _trying_ to be. He knew what would happen if he ever got on Sasuke's bad side for any reason, and he did not want that. Sasuke was most definitely _not_ himself, and it was beginning to scare him. Sure, he was still pissy and ill-tempered as always, but... He _never_ acted frightened. Not around anyone. Showing any sort of weakness was against all Sasuke believed in—if he believed in anything at all.

"Well, all right, then. On another note, we're almost out of bustables—"

"We'll find another source besides _him_ ," Sasuke nearly all but spat. "The little fucker still demands that I pay him for last time, which I obviously _did_." _Just not the way that he wanted_ , he mentally added with an internal shiver.

"What's the problem, then?"

Kakashi had just now realized that, once again, they were on the subject of Orochimaru. That had to be what was startling Sasuke, undoubtedly, if he had brought it up himself right after telling Kakashi to shut the hell up about it.

"I just fuckin' _told_ you. That bastard is the problem here. We're not seeing him again, you got that?"

"Whatever you say. It's just going to be hard to find another good source that has what we're looking for. It's a shame." It really wasn't. Sasuke was known to get what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and Kakashi knew that it wouldn't be hard for his friend to find another reliable source. Kakashi was just hoping to possibly fish some more information out of Sasuke, if anything.

"Are we hitting this, or not?"

Yet another subject change. Sasuke was seriously confusing him.

"...Sure."

* * *

 

Both men were feeling quite good within a mere thirty minutes or so after their "BIU" session—as Kakashi liked to call it—which stood for "bust it up". It had quickly became their code name for the act when out in public, serving to confuse any passer-by's who happened to hear their conversation. There was no need for anyone else to know. They already had one close call too many before, and they did _not_ want a repeat.

"Your go," Sasuke half mumbled, half talked, mindlessly blowing out a puff of smoke as a cigarette hung loosely from his lip. He should try new pills more often. He felt _wonderful._

"Am I solids?" Kakashi asked in a daze, seriously confused whilst scratching his head. Why did he even bother trying to play a serious round of pool? It wasn't as if he payed any attention when in this state anyway...or out of it.

"Hell if I know, I'm fucked up." Sasuke took another drag from his cigarette, fogging up their surroundings in a cloud of smoke once more whilst eyeing the table in front of him, not exactly aware of his surroundings. He seemed clueless, almost.

"Shit. What did you hit in last, solids or stripes?"

"You're asking _me_?"

It was funny, really, for them to even attempt to play a game when they were like this. It was rather pointless, both knew, yet they still tried anyway. Better than sleeping off their high and completely wasting good money, that was for sure, even though God knew they had plenty of it. Sasuke, particularly.

"Ah, screw this. I got something better," Kakashi said, finally giving in. "Hold on." Laying down his pool stick, he headed towards the fridge, Sasuke eyeing him skeptically. What was he up to?

A huge, shit-eating grin spread across Kakashi's face as he pulled out a rather large bottle of vodka and orange juice, intent on mixing a Screwdriver.

"Two words, Sasuke, two words: Hell. Yes."

"And _I_ say, fuck _no_. Get that nasty shit _out of here_ before I fuckin' do it myself." His expression was vicious compared to earlier. He seemed far more out of sorts than usual. Their BIU sessison should have completely eradicated any pissy behavior of his friend, like usual. Ofcourse, those times he was still apathetic—that was something that seldom changed. Apathetic, but satisfied, atleast. But now?

"What—"

"I'm not kidding, Hatake. _Out. Now._ " He dropped the pool stick on the ground beside him, showing Kakashi that he wasn't joking or in the mood to play his game.

"The hell's your problem? It's only alcohol, it's not like it's any worse than—"

"It's _because_ it's alcohol. Only filthy faggots drink that shit." He was completely adamant on denying Kakashi. If he let him do that, he'd be betraying himself. If _he_ did that, he'd be _killing_ himself. He knew what alcohol turned people into.

They'd end up like his father.

"That's just your opin—"

" _No._ "

"...You never let me finish my sentences anymore."

"There's a reason for that, and a damn good one. Put that back in the fridge, or throw it out. Either one works as long as I don't have to see it."

Well, shit.

"I have yet to understand you, Sasuke," he sighed, carding a hand through soft white locks. Really, what was Sasuke's _problem_? He was okay with drugs, and yet alcohol was completely forbidden? Well, _he_ sure made a shit-load of sense.

"Get going," he ordered, picking the abandoned pool stick up back into his grasp, intent on forgetting everything Kakashi had just mentioned to resume their futile game of pool.

"Fine."

* * *

 

Both men had passed out on the couch by the time midnight had rolled around. That was a new record for them, considering they normally stayed up all night, doing mindless things that didn't require much thought.

Kakashi had promptly fell asleep on the floor with one of his many pornographic novels plastered over his sleeping face, mouth agape and snoring rather loudly. It wasn't a new occurrence for the man.

Sasuke had fell asleep on the couch, pool stick still hung loosely in one of his hands that hung off the furniture, but still more gracefully than Kakashi could ever be. Those new pills had really took their toll on them, it seemed.

All of the lights in Sasuke's apartment were left on, glowing out of the windows from stories down into the darkness, falsely conveying to anyone below that they were still awake. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing, really, depending on the situation.

Two loud bangs sounded at the door.

Yes. In this situation, it was rather bad.

Angry, muffled voices could be heard behind it, but this time, it wasn't just one person, it was _several_. Despite it all, neither man stirred in their deep, drug-induced sleep. Ignorance really was bliss.

Another multitude of bangs echoed throughout the apartment, causing one of the two men to scrunch up their face in frustration, yet still asleep.

“Shut th' fuck _up_ , K'kashi...” Sasuke managed to mumble through his hazed mind, throwing an arm over his face to shield his eyes from the lights that still remained on inside his living room.

Vaguely hearing muffled sounds somewhere in the back of his mind, he muttered, “Go masturbate somewhere else, fuck.”

Noticing the voices getting louder, he finally began to piece things together and realized that it _wasn't_ Kakashi. Taking his arm away from his face, he blinked open his eyes, slowly sitting up whilst dropping the pool stick with a loud clatter onto the hardwood flooring.

“ _OPEN-THE-FUCKING_ -DOOR!”

Shit.

Realizing these men were serious and could very well knock down his door and murder him on the spot, he quickly got to his feet—albeit a little wobbly—and scurried towards Kakashi.

The man was still completely out of it, book still sprawled across him.

Throwing the offending material off of his friend's face into the corner somewhere, he smacked Kakashi's face lightly in attempt to wake him. Realizing it wasn't working, he said, “Hey, fuck-face! Wake _up_! We haven't got much time here, you know!”

Still no response.

Noticing the abandoned pool stick from earlier, he quickly grabbed it in his haste. Aiming it between Kakashi's open legs, he said, “to hell with it,” and thrust it forward as hard as he could.

_That_ woke him up. A rather unpleasant wake-up call, but it did the trick.

“Whatever works,” Sasuke smirked to himself as Kakashi balled up in pain on the floor, holding his crotch and groaning in blistering agony.

Wrenching the man to his feet, now they were both aware of the impending doom just outside the door. A booted foot harshly kicked the wooden door several times in an attempt to get in, and much to the boys' dismay, it seemed to be working.

A splintering ' _crack!_ ' was heard, sounding much louder than it should have to Sasuke as he grabbed Kakashi's wrist and yanked him away from the door just in time.

With one last kick, the door sprang open, revealing four angry men, expressions screaming bloody murder as they automatically caught sight of Sasuke and Kakashi.

It was too late for escape.

By now, all four men were smirking—one of the four being Orochimaru, who must've tipped off the other three of Sasuke's whereabouts—and stepped further into the apartment.

“Before we have to do this the hard way, I'll ask _one more time_. Where's the money?”

“And I'll _say_ this one more time: go _fuck_ yourself, Orochimaru.”

For some reason, that didn't exactly have the desired effect on the man that he thought it would.

“Why do that when I could just have you instead?”

Ah, that explained it. Though, that was the wrong answer for Sasuke.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, _daring_ him to say anything more on the subject, and it was as if Orochimaru had read his mind.

“Strike a nerve?”

Popping his knuckles almost as an initiative to fight, he all but yelled, “I'll strike more than a fuckin' nerve, you sick bastard!”

It was on.

Grasping the one thing that failed to let him down that day, he held it out in front of him, pointing it at the four menacing pricks that still had yet to leave.

wo of them stared in disbelief, while the other two chuckled at the cylinder-shaped piece of wood that was supposed to threaten them. Little did they know, he was quite skilled with it.

“I'll give you five seconds to walk out that door. Otherwise, your asses are _mine_.” His voice was low in all its fierceness, expression deadly all the while staring Orochimaru straight into his snake-like eyes.

“Sounds fun,” was the man's simple reply, not in the least acknowledging Sasuke's dampened mood.

“One,” he began, smooth voice laced with fury, never once breaking eye contact with those in front of him.

“Really now, what do you hope to achieve with _that_?”

“Two,” Sasuke continued on calmly, deadly.

“Counting down? That's so juvenile, Sasuke,” he pretended to smirk, only to try and hide the fact that he was starting to grow concerned, and just a tad bit worried.

“Three.”

“Ignoring me isn't going to get you anywhere,” Orochimaru continued to sneer, growing agitated.

“... _Four_ ,” he emphasized, bringing a foot out as if getting ready to take a step, if only to intimidate those in front of him. But mostly, it was only a distraction for—

“What the fu—”

It was about that time when Kakashi suddenly appeared behind him, a black 8-ball in hand, and crashed it against the back of Orochimaru's skull with a sickening ' _crack!_ ' before he even had time to react. Passing out, he hit the floor face first, alarming the three bystanders who hadn't even noticed Kakashi sneaking up behind them.

“And five,” he finished.

One down, three to go. Now that the leader was gone, the others were a lost cause. Good. That made this easier.

“I've got the rest, Hatake,” Sasuke smirked, noting the others trying to prepare themselves. Didn't they come armed?

“No, not after you nailed me in the nuts earlier! I've been meaning to let off a little steam,” the white-haired man exclaimed, taking off towards the pool table.

“I think they're the wrong targets for that,” Sasuke informed matter-of-factly.

“Doesn't matter. I'd rather not be on your bad side,” Kakashi said, picking up a handful of multi-colored balls from the table, making sure to keep his eye on the others incase of an attempted escape.

“Good choice. You'd have to feel the wrath of my stick.” He thrust it out in front of him, just to add emphasis. This caused the three men to stumble backwards, one of them tripping over their leader's unconscious body. Sasuke merely chuckled.

“...I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that,” Kakashi said, heading back over to Sasuke. “You ready?”

“Fuck yeah.”

And so it began.

Twirling the wooden stick in between two fingers, he thrust it into the stomach of the man who was preparing to attack, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him stumbling to the ground. Kakashi launched yet another billiard ball at the fallen man, to make sure he'd _stay_ down, and it him square in the forehead. No one could say that he didn't have good aim, that's for sure.

Another furious man came raging towards them, fist in the air and ready to swing. Sasuke caught it swiftly with one hand, while the other, ofcourse, once again thrust the pool stick forward under the bastard's chin, knocking him backwards.

Kakashi, in his haste, grabbed the other pool stick and decided to take care of the last man how Sasuke had dealt with him earlier. With a merry expression, Kakashi promptly took the rod and launched it square in the man's crotch. A cry of agony reverberated throughout the apartment as he fell to his knees.

“We can share the pain together, bro,” Kakashi said with mock-sympathy, sitting the stick upright and leaning on it casually as he inspected their work.

Other than the occasional groan or two from the pile of sprawled out thugs on the floor, it was silent.

“So...,” Kakashi began, “You wanna play a game of pool?”

Sasuke suddenly had the feeling that it was going to be a long night.


End file.
